


Every Minute Counts

by prompt_fills



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Football, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Career Change, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Football, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7807492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Nico and Lewis are the two star strikers of a NN Cowell football team.<br/>They don’t get along but they do their best to keep their team in the hunt for the league title. Only, Nico really didn’t mean for Lewis to get hurt.</p><p>Or, the one where Nico and Lewis play football for a living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Minute Counts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreaming_in_Circles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/gifts).



> I hope you'll enjoy this AU, I added some minor blink-and-you-miss-it pairings, like Dan^2 or Simi.

They’re all gathered in a tight circle in their dressing room, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders and waists. Jenson alternates with their coach to give them their usual pep talk.

Nico is standing right next to Jenson, the keeper’s gloves digging into his hip.

He tries to channel his team’s confidence but he’s failing miserably.

He hasn’t managed to find his footing after Kimi’s trade. Dan is out with a knee injury, leaving a spot in the central midfield that won’t be easy to bridge. On top of that, Daniil is out due to a red card suspension, so their centre back is weaker than ever.

“We’ve got this,” Jenson assures them when they’re leaving the room.

“Hell yeah, we do,” Lewis whoops, jumping up, hands on Jenson’s shoulders for support. Jenson smiles and shakes him off. Lewis slides back to the floor and jogs down the stairs to the tunnel.

Nico wishes he could be that sure.

Their opposing team is already there, waiting, and Nico reaches over the divider to shake a few hands and accept all the jabs at his expense.

With an unreadable expression on his face, Lewis watches Nico as he switches from English to German and then to Italian and Spanish in a rapid succession. Lewis knows better than to ask Nico what they’re talking about – Nico could get away with only so many pranks before Lewis got tired of Nico’s outrageous translations.

Then, finally, they march out onto the pitch.

Nico’s heart is beating fast. His eyes skim the stands as they emerge from the tunnel. Lewis might envy him understanding so many languages but at moments like this, it’s an unwelcome distraction.

He understands every insult, he hears every jeer, his eyes automatically read all the disgusting banners the fans are holding up. He needs for the match to begin so he can tune it all out and focus on what he does best – playing the game.

They badly need to show their best today.

Their season has taken a tumble and even their own fans have no patience with them anymore, whistling and booing just as much as the supporters of the opposing team.

Nico knows most of it is addressed at him for failing to deliver during the previous match – and the one before that – _and the one before that_ …

He bows his head and the small hand holding his grips him a little tighter. He glances at the young girl who he’s leading to the centre of the pitch. She’s dressed in their home colours, down to the headband keeping her hair off her face.

Nico wills himself to smile and tugs lightly at a loose strand of her hair. Her big round eyes turn up at him, full of admiration and trust. As they line up for the opening ceremony, she wishes him good luck in German. She’s adorable.

The kids scuttle away, Jenson looses the coin toss – he usually does, it’s a mystery – and they start the game with the sun glaring in their eyes.

“Found yourself a little fan, I see,” Lewis says cheekily as they jog to take their positions. “At least someone still likes you.” He jerks his head to where the kids run off to.

“Shut up,” Nico grumbles, refusing to get distracted by his own teammate.

“Don’t worry, Brit,” Jenson crows from behind them, adjusting the captain’s band around his arm. “We all know he still loves you too. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, mate,” he adds, patting Lewis’ back and heading over to guard his goal.

Lewis splutters and Nico shares a smug grin with Jenson.

The match begins and the rest of the world floats away.

It’s – it’s painful, and not just because Nico still feels the hamstring he strained at the beginning of the week.

Their defence is a joke, Jenson’s performance today is frankly pitiful and despite all the practise sessions, Nico can’t seem to find a common ground with Lewis on his right wing.

He misses Kimi – or at least he misses his strong, precise passes. There are moments when Nico sprints forward in a mad rush only to wait for a ball from the aggressive midfielder that never comes. El Nano is doing all he can but he’s also got a hard time clicking with their new formation.

Kimi, on the other hand, fell in sync with his new team right away and his passes find Vettel just as surely as they once found Nico. They form a lethal duo.

The coach went over several of MK Newey matches step by step, analysing the way they carry their attacks to the opponent’s weak side, instructing his players how to best prevent that.

For all the coaching, they’re still not prepared for the intensity of the match. Toto is screaming himself hoarse at the sideline, because they’re only biding their time, most definitely not making him proud. While MK Newey forces them deep into defence, Nico waits for a chance of a break.

It comes in the twenty eight minute. Vettel attempts a long pass which El Nano easily intercepts, kicking the ball Nico’s way. Nico gets it on his right foot and he moves forward, progressing with minimal effort, taking the Newey defence by surprise.

    “ _Nico Rosberg!_ ” cries the commentator excitedly but then has to add, voice falling, “ _denied by the keeper._ ”

Nico grits his teeth as he jogs back to their side of the pitch, accompanied by loud boos and whistling.

MK Newey has bought Kimi and now they’re eyeing Kevin. Daniil’s loan is almost up and no amount of bugging got Nico any answers, either from him or Dan. Nico feels like their team is falling apart around them, both on and off the pitch. They always have to sell their best players and find a way to make their chemistry work again.

Vettel becomes more aware of the game and he wastes no time when Kimi sends him a beautiful pass.

Luckily for NN Cowell, Vettel sends the ball flying just a little bit too high.

    The announcer’s voice booms over the stands. _“Unbelievable, Vettel hits the post! Such a gifted player – terrific goal score – but he misses!”_  


Jenson is shouting profanities as he retrieves the ball from behind the net and sends it back into the game with a long kick.

Vettel is ruthless in his pursuit of a goal that would open the score and put Newey in the lead. He’s flying, he’s dangerous and unstoppable. They’ll be lost if they let him cross the Cowell penalty area. There isn’t much Carlos can do about it, except to go for a tackle.

Vettel sees the movement coming from a mile away. He cuts to a side and he _dives_ , too soon, too obvious. Nico doesn’t quite catch what happens in the ensuing commotion.

       
_“That’s a definite yellow! And is that – yes it is, a free kick for Toto’s boys.”_   


Nico kicks the ball up from the grass, spinning it on the tips of his fingers as he makes his way to where Lewis is waiting, over twenty three meters from the goal. They put their heads together, both keeping one hand carefully in front of their mouths so the cameras won’t zoom in and catch what they’re saying. They don’t really need to talk, they know perfectly what to do, the coach has been over this many times the past few days.

Marko’s team forms a defensive wall in the meantime.

Lewis waves his hand dismissively in a broad gesture and steps aside. Nico sets the ball on the ground, nudging it gently forward with his foot the moment the referee’s back is turned. He makes a show of measuring his steps back, drawing in a breath, steadying himself, apparently mentally bracing himself for the moment.

The cameras are on Nico as he springs forward, missing the ball by a huge margin, and they nearly fail to notice Lewis as he tears forward at the same time, sending the ball flying to the net.

The trick doesn’t work.

       
_“The goalkeeper made the desperate save!”_   


All they manage is to make the Newey players even more fierce in their offence.

Cowell resists all the attacks but they doesn’t get another chance until the forty third minute.

Lewis gets there first.

       
_“So aggressive when tackling the ball!”_   


Hulk is on him in a flash and Nico sees both Ericsson and Grosjean quickly catching up.

Lewis doesn’t even hesitate, he sends the ball to a side as if he knows precisely where Nico is waiting for it.

       
_“They manage to work quite well together.”_   


Lewis dodges Hulk and both him and Nico sprint towards the goal. Nico finds Lewis with his eyes and passes the ball, easily sidestepping the defence Ericsson provides.

       
_“The time is ticking and now there’s a little bit more urgency in their passes.”_   


Nico is out in the open, all three defenders getting fooled into chasing after Lewis. Lewis glances up, sees Nico, sees the net and he –

       
_“Hits the post! Hamilton doesn’t open the score.”_   


Nico lets out a frustrated roar, Lewis hides his face in his palms, then stares at the net again, like he’s surprised he didn’t make it.

Nico wants to throttle him, reminded very painfully why exactly his father always insists he doesn’t like team sports.

He waits until Lewis gets closer to him, schooling his features for the cameras but he can’t keep the words in. “Why didn’t you fucking pass to me?”

“There was no time for that, it was either shoot or lose the ball,” Lewis hisses back.

“Fuck you,” Nico dismisses Lewis’ bullshit.

He has no right to be angry, though, because not even a minute later, he himself fucks up a brilliant chance and subsequently lets Vettel score the first goal.

It just doesn’t seem to be their day.

Kimi improves the score to 2-0 before the half-time comes.

Toto doesn’t even wait until they’re in the tunnel and starts yelling at them, furious.

The words register but they don’t stick. Nico keeps glaring at the ground, waiting for the game to resume.

Lewis is sitting on the bench next to him, nodding in all the right places.

****

***

They can’t afford to let the disaster of the first half get to them. They have to focus on what they can still change.

Jenson and El Nano are getting ready by doing jumping jacks by the side of the goal while Lewis and Nico trade passes, prolonging the distance between them, then stepping up the difficulty by not allowing the ball to touch the ground.

He thinks their dynamic could be so much better, if only Lewis let Nico get close enough to understand him and didn’t shoot him down whenever Nico suggested they hang out. It is always that quirky pinched expression on Lewis’ face and his quiet, ‘some other time, okay?’ that keeps threatening to take Nico apart.

Nico loves these brief, fleeting moments on the pitch when it almost feels like it’s not all messed up between them.

Nico does a sombrero flick, sending the ball over his head in a high arch. He twists and takes off, laughing, leaving Lewis behind.

The sharp sound of a whistle ends their warm-up. The second half starts.

And with it starts the series of bad luck.

       
_“Alonso finds Rosberg and IT’S A GOAL! Rosberg rekindles Cowell hopes! Oh no, it’s an offside.”_   


Newey sub Max with Esteban. It’s a sickeningly great decision to bring the other Mexican onto the pitch. He’s full of energy and goes into fights with all his heart. Esteban and Checo fly together seamlessly, working together instead of challenging each other. It doesn’t take long before Checo sends the ball past Jenson into the net.

The next goal also happens with Esteban’s contribution. Esteban wins the ball over El Nano and gets it safely to Vettel who makes it a corner kick for his team.

Jenson can’t stop Hulk’s header, the ball whizzing just a few inches above his gloves.

       
_“And it’s four nil, with only six minutes to go.”_   


The referee then prolongs their suffering for additional three minutes before the final whistle blows.

       
_“It’s official! MK Newey defeats NN Cowell! In their last seven ties, Newey won five times.”_   


“You played like shit,” Kimi says, shaking Nico’s hand, keeping the contact about half a second long.

“I know,” Nico grumbles, accepting the sympathetic pat on his shoulder from Grosjean.

“He wasn’t any better,” Kimi offers, already moving away, pointing at the tunnel where Lewis disappeared to the moment it was all over.

Nico feels weirdly justified by hearing it from Kimi. He watches the Finn join his new team in front of the goalpost, thanking their fans that travelled here to see the match. Vettel, who has a goal and two assists today, latches onto Kimi’s side, giddy. Kimi doesn’t even flinch, just raises his hand and offers a small wave to the stands, his usually blank expression softening.

“What a screw-up,” Jenson sighs near Nico’s ear, holding his gloves in one hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the other.

“Yeah,” Nico agrees.

He doesn’t even know the half of it yet.

When Nico reaches their dressing room, Lewis is livid. “You had the central position to finish!”

Nico unlaces his sneakers, not bothering to look up. “I couldn’t make it.”

“No surprise there,” Lewis snaps. “We all know you’re not the best shot.”

Nico is sure Lewis could go on for hours and he has no intention of being lectured by him.

Nico gets up on his feet so he can glare down at Lewis. “What’s wrong with you?” He crosses the room and intrudes Lewis’ personal space but Lewis doesn’t back off.

“With me?” Lewis growls. “It could have gone differently if you managed to keep your shit together just one fucking time!”

“How about the first half when you didn’t put it in, have you already forgotten about that?” His temper flaring, Nico thrusts his arms out, shoving Lewis. “And wasn’t it your offside that ruined my goal, ha?”

Lewis overbalances and falls over, hitting the bench as he goes down.

Their shouting match has already drawn attention to them – it always does – but now it feels like everyone is staring.

Lewis’ eyes shutter close and he stills.

“Fuck,” Nico rumbles, jumping close to help Lewis up. “Shit, sorry. You okay?”

But Lewis isn’t getting up. “Lewis?” Nico touches a tentative hand to Lewis’ arm. Lewis doesn’t react.

Emerging from the showers and taking in the situation, Jenson bellows, “Get the doctor, get Ellis!”

“Lewis?” Nico repeats, hand trailing up to press against the side of Lewis’ neck. The skin is damp and warm, Lewis must have taken his shower in the time it took Nico to drag himself into the cabins from the pitch.

“Christ, try not to move him,” Jenson says, kneeling down next to Nico and getting the floor wet because he’s still dripping water.

The next thing Nico knows, Ellis is with them, putting his medkit down and getting out a small flashlight. He touches Lewis’ eyelids and shines into his eyes, cursing at the reaction he gets.

“What the fuck happened?” Toto demands to know, barging into the room. Someone must have alerted him because there is no way the press let him go yet.

Jenson moves away to let the doctor treat their teammate, taking Nico with him.

“I didn’t mean to,” Nico stammers out, griping Jenson’s arm so hard he must be leaving bruises. His knees are so weak he’d crumple to the floor again if Jenson wasn’t holding his weight.

Jenson comfortingly stokes his arm down Nico’s back and pries his arm free of Nico’s fingers. “I know you didn’t.”

He says it with a little shrug, no questions asked. Like there is no way Nico would ever _want_ to hurt Lewis.

“I really didn’t,” Nico says and it’s like a broken moan.

“Shh, we know, we know,” Jenson hushes him, then adds, voice growing louder and sharper. “If you’re taking him in, we’re coming with you.”

“Your pants,” El Nano reminds their captain helpfully.

“Right, yes, that first.”

****

***

Lewis is going to be okay. He’s going to be okay, Nico repeats to himself. It’s what the doctors said, anyway.

Looking at Lewis now, though, Nico still worries himself sick. 

Lewis looks ashen and fragile and he’s still sleeping. He has woken up before but the doctors gave him something that put him asleep again pretty fast. And now it’s been hours.

Lewis is going to be fine, he just needs to rest.

Nico shifts in the uncomfortable hospital chair, casts his eyes on the pristine floor and repeats his mantra over and over again.

Lewis will be fine.

He can’t bare it. The _cleanness_ and _whiteness_ of the room, the way it smells, the way it’s quiet. He can’t even hear Lewis breathing from where he is sitting.

Nico closes his eyes and imagines the articles appearing on Dirty Tackle.

       
_Touchline insanity: Rosberg strikes down Hamilton_   


Lewis is going to be _fine_. Pretty pissed off, sure. Rightfully so. But he’ll be okay. He might refuse to ever say another word to Nico or he might scream down the whole place until they make Nico get away from him but it will be okay because he’ll be up again.

It won’t matter if he’ll hate Nico more than ever, Nico’s pretty sure he’d screw up any possible chances he ever had long before today. Hell, Lewis didn’t even want to be friends.

Nico lifts up his eyes. Lewis lies prone on the bed, no signs of waking up. The doctors said it would take him about four hours.

It’s been nearly six. The nurse just checked in on them a few minutes ago and she appeared to be absolutely calm.

Nico needs to stay calm, too.

He is anything but calm, damn it, he can’t even hear Lewis breathe, there is no monitor keeping track on his heart beating and Nico needs _something_.

He gets up from his chair and moves closer to the bed. Is Lewis’ chest raising up and falling down or is it just a trick of the light? He needs to get closer.

Once he’s pressed against the bed, there is nothing stopping him from placing his hand over Lewis’ chest, just above his heart.

He feels the steady rhythm of Lewis’ heart, his hand moves up and down softly with Lewis’ breathing.

Nico sniffles, his throat constricting tightly. He feels dizzy again and so he settles down on the bed, slowly and carefully so he doesn’t disturb his sleeping teammate.

For a moment he thinks he didn’t succeed and woke Lewis up after all, but Lewis doesn’t so much as stir. Nico keeps his palm where it is, feeling comforted by the touch.

“I’m sorry, you know?” Nico lets out a shaky breath. His voice is as faint as a whisper. The hospital room is awfully quiet, a stark contrast to the loud stadium, and Nico still worries his voice is too loud. “I’m freaking out right now.”

Lewis, unsurprisingly, continues to lie still on the bed and Nico is very glad he can feel his heartbeat under his shaking fingers.

He repeats to himself that it’s all going to be okay. Then he repeats it aloud. “You’re going to be okay, you hear me?”

It doesn’t earn him a reply, so he continues with his tirade.

“You need to be okay so we can come back and win the bloody trophy and then we can celebrate and I get to tell you how much I love you and you’ll never read anything into it, and I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get you placed in here, okay?”

Nico leans down to press a kiss against Lewis’ forehead. Lewis’ hair tickles his nose.

“You always miss,” Lewis says, sounding wide awake. He opens his eyes to stare up at Nico in a challenge, an amused smile curling his lips up.

Nico’s inhales sharply in surprise. “Lewis! Oh thank god.” He leans down, braces his arm against the pillow above Lewis’ shoulder, and gives Lewis a quick hug. Then he’s sitting up again. “How are you feeling? We should get the nurse. Hang on.”

Nico slips off the bed, heart hammering in his chest, and runs out to get someone qualified to check on Lewis.

It takes a while but Lewis is declared fit. Much to his chagrin, they still insist he stays overnight.

When everyone leaves the room again, Nico pokes his head in. He regards Lewis with a cautious gaze, trying to judge the situation. But he’s never been good at reading Lewis.

“Hey,” Lewis says, no hostility in his voice.

Nico steps in and closes the door behind himself. He sucks in a breath. He doesn’t know where to start and he doesn’t know what to say that won’t anger Lewis.

Lewis is the first to break the silence. “Second chance?” he asks.

“What?”

“Earlier, I said you always miss,” Lewis draws up a little on his bed. He taps his lips with his forefinger. “So, second chance?”

Nico’s rooted to the spot and he can only stare, wondering if Lewis is mocking him or if he’s – but that’s impossible – being serious.

After a moment, Lewis’ cocky smile slips off his face. “I mean,” he backtracks. “It’s not–”

“It is,” Nico cuts in quickly, before Lewis could take the offer back. “I just– you barely woke up. And I’m so sorry about that I didn’t mean – well, I guess I did but not so that you– you know?” His heart is thrumming in his chest, his breathing comes in quick shallow puffs.

“I’m starting to get the idea, yeah. Get back here,” Lewis commands, patting the bed.

Nico climbs up on the bed, straddling Lewis’ hips, looking down at him, waiting for any sign that would say that this is not okay. Lewis grins. He’s looking up at Nico through his eyelashes, holding the gaze.

Nico gulps, steadying his shaking hand against Lewis’ hips. He starts to lean down.

The door burst open, and Nico flinches.

“Oh my God, you two! Can’t you keep your hands off each other for five minutes? You know what, don’t answer that. Don’t!”

Nico’s cheeks are flaming.

“You wanted something?” Lewis raises an eyebrow at their captain, rising up slightly on the bed so he can see the door. His voice is calm but Nico is closer than Jenson and sees the way his fingers tighten into a nervous fist.

“Yeah. I brought you your things.” Jenson says and sets a bag he’s been holding to the floor near the door, not venturing closer to them. “Your phone and iPod and keys. How’re you doing?”

“Oh. Thanks. I’m fine. I’ll be back in time for the second leg,” Lewis says, no trace of uncertainty in his voice.

“You’d better,” Jenson says. “Right. So. I’m going to go, and close the door behind me and make sure no one disturbs you in the next–”

“Thirty minutes,” Lewis adds.

“Wow, okay. Thirty minutes,” Jenson repeats and hurriedly leaves the room. “Jesus.”

Nico’s shoulders shake with silent laughter even though his cheeks are still flushed scarlet. He keeps hiding his face in Lewis’ chest and Lewis wraps an arm around Nico’s shoulders and pulls them both back down on the bed.

“You missed again,” Lewis says, teasing.

Nico whines. “That was awkward,” he says, voice muffled.

“But I got us full thirty minutes,” Lewis retorts.

“Knowing Jenson, he’ll be back in ten. Probably with a camera.”

“You’d better make every minute count, then.”

Nico is about to comply but – “Why wasn’t he surprised to, you know?” Nico gestures to himself.

“Er,” Lewis stutters. “He might have gotten the wrong idea? And I've never corrected him?”

“When?”

Lewis groans. “Oh c’mon, what does it matter now. Tick-tock, tick-tock.”

Nico decides it doesn’t matter _right now_ and files the information away for when they’re out of the hospital.

For now, he settles on not missing again.

He meets Lewis’ lips in a kiss, open and hard, demanding. He gives in, letting himself get lost in the sensation.

He can definitely hear someone’s footsteps in the hall but he’s not stopping until he really has to. Every second matters. No more missed chances.


End file.
